


Neon Strips of Paper Declare My...

by Exorciststuck, incendiarydissension



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Demiboy Dave, Highschool AU, M/M, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorciststuck/pseuds/Exorciststuck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/incendiarydissension/pseuds/incendiarydissension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You thought schools had standards, but you guess you can't really complain if your Biology textbook accidentally played as the board for a game of matchmaker. Besides, the dork wasn't that bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desire for Companionship

It all started the day the public school education system sucked. Well, okay, that’s a BIT of an exaggeration, but it was why you’d ended up in this mess. You showed up to your second block Biology class only to learn that they, amazingly, didn't actually have enough textbooks for all the students that needed to take the damn class. So, lucky you, being the _lucky_ name pulled out of a hat (the most professional way to go about things, obviously), were told you either had to fork out $100 for one textbook, or share with a guy in another period and figure it out between yourselves.

You learned the unlucky fuck who got saddled with the same fate as you was named John Egbert. Which is why you were sitting at a study table in the halls, waiting. And then he turned the corner, and you swore your heart stopped for a second. God fucking damn, you just time travelled back to the glorious land of 90’s nerds, didn’t you? All he needed was the tape on the bridge of his glasses, and he was fucking set to go. 

His hand reached out for yours then, and you gave it a firm southern shake as he introduced himself, easily sliding into the seat across from you, “hey! My name’s John, and... Well, it’s probably obvious, but I’m the guy who’s apparently supposed to share a textbook with you!” You nodded, and he continued, pulling out his phone and showing you a calendar, “so, I was thinking we could set up a sche-”

“Whoa. Hold on there. First of all, are you even going to ask for my name? Not that it matters, since you didn’t, but it’s Dave. Treat a lady with some fucking respect, dude.” He had the nerve to look a bit amused at that, and you just rolled your eyes. “Why don’t we just alternate days, and then alternate weekends and shit. Trade Pesterchums, take photos of the textbook pages, shit’s not that hard. I don’t even use this piece of ass half the time.” You gestured to the... Grossly large book then, and looked back to John. 

“Okay, cool, whatev-” apparently, something had distracted John, because he started staring at your hands. After a few seconds of that though, he opened his mouth, and you immediately wished he hadn’t, “is that a Tony Hawk phone case? You fucking loser.”

You got up and left then, because holy fuck, you agreed to share a textbook, not take shit from an ~~endearingly~~ annoying fucking dweeb. Forget your own coolness, this guy was out of control. He needed to reign it in before someone got hurt. It’d be a disaster too, some innocent old grandma walking down the street when she trips and falls on John Egbert’s dweeb, and she clutches at her newly broken hip as she calls for help, voice weak. God fucking damn, nerds ruined everything again.

===================================================================================

The second Dave turns the corner out of sight, you lift the textbook into your arms and snicker a bit to yourself. That is, until you realise that you didn’t actually manage to secure the asshole’s Pesterchum! You were close to freaking out and running after him too, when you eyes caught sight of the the hot pink post-it note sitting on the book with his handle. turntechGodhead written in messy script, all scrunched up together, and then a little drawing of those shades he wore perched on his nose. 

You end up snorting to yourself as you think back on your meeting with the guy. Who would have thought someone like that would be such a dweeb? At least he seemed pretty nice, or... well, nice probably wasn’t the right word, but he didn’t seem unnecessarily hostile! So, that’s a start. 

When you get home later, it’s all shitty and rainy outside. The internet proves itself to be uninteresting for your tired mind, dinner isn’t ready, and you find yourself stuck with no excuses or reasons not to get a little ahead on homework. Why not read ahead a little and shock everyone with your trivial knowledge of how prokaryotic bacteria function? That’d be awesome! John Egbert, class brainiac, science nerd, super cool and hot.

Or, at least it’d be awesome, except that you still have the attention span of a relatively bored teenager. It takes less than ten minutes of reading, and your poor, tired mind has wandered from the words littering your textbook to the guy you're apparently sharing it with now. You wondered if it’d be inappropriate to message him on Pesterchum in a chummy way, considering you only traded because of the book. Was that some sort of social faux pas? Good impressions were important in these influential high school years, after all.

For a minute or two you just weigh the pros and cons of trying to start up a conversation with him over Pesterchum. That is, until your stack of neon blue post-it notes catch your eye. A smile spreads across your features as an idea bursts in your mind, and you grab one of the notes off the stack, applying it to the page you're reading for class tomorrow. Maybe you’d leave him a little extra reading for fun...

“did you know they name genes when they figure out what they do?  
i heard they found one for losers and named it the dave!!!  
haha jk (or AM i?)  
also i don’t actually know if they name genes so don’t write that as a test answer.” 

Yeah, this looked like a good start. Only the funniest, most worthy people would reply to such genius as you. Putting Dave to the test was obviously the only way to go about this.


	2. Urge for a Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want a fight, you definitely want a fight. (Man, who even MAKES that much food?)

You realise belatedly, the moment you walk into the school, that you have no idea where to find John to get your textbook back for class. It doesn’t stay a problem for more than a minute though, because he’s standing outside the classroom waiting for you. Cool, he’s pretty reliable so far then. You’re not gonna put your life in his hands or anything, but at least you can figure he’s not gonna run off to elope with your textbook or some shit.

He’s got this chipper fucking smile on his face too, one that reeks of his willingness to maul anybody who gets between him and what he wants. Which right now seems to be giving you the textbook, and then, once you take it, he winks in a way you can only describe as salacious and turns down the hall, heading off to his next class. 

After that, you step into the classroom and sit your ass down on the hard plastic chairs, cracking that same book open on the table. You discover pretty quickly what had him so happy when you open the textbook to chapter twelve, expecting pages of sciency shit, not... That. His words make you groan out loud, and you shake your head, grabbing a post-it note to reply without even thinking about it. Is that weird? Nah. 

“you telling me im supposed to believe that youre not the loser in this equation  
cause im not fucking buying it egbert  
you me lunch behind the benches outside  
be there or be  
i dunno a total pissbaby and real boring”

Class suddenly becomes a lot more interesting when you slip a picture of John as a square into the textbook then, and you find yourself amused with little stick comics until you’re set free to go read the chapter that tells you exactly what you just fucking learned. Goddamn.

===================================================================================

Opening your textbook reveals two little gifts for you. The first is a lovingly crafted piece of paper, coated in drawings of you as a crudely little rendered square, and Dave as an equally crude triangle. Isosceles, to be exact. They get a giggle out of you pretty easily, which sets you up for his written message, begging you for what may or may not be a fight. 

Considering what you remember of him from this morning, unless he knows some martial arts or something, that stick isn’t going to get so far in any fights with you. But... You guess it can’t hurt to go hang with him, since he’s probably not serious. Besides, making new friends is fun! And you’d been so interested yesterday!

Since the post-it note thing is really convenient though, you still pop another one into the book since tonight is his night, and a dumb little smile spreads across your face as you write down your message to him in-between actual Sciencey notes.

“yeah, yeah. i’ll fight you! but loser does the other’s homework for a week!  
not really, actually. i don’t want you to make me fail this class.  
okay but yeah since you’ll see me before you see these notes...  
why are you taking biology anyway?”

You don’t want to be that guy that makes assumptions about others, but honestly, you have no idea why he’s taking this class! It’s not mandatory for anything either, so you think that it’s a perfectly reasonable ice-breaking question. Besides, wondering if Dave has plans to do brain surgery distracts you for the rest of class, until the bell rings and you pack up to rush off and meet him outside.  
===================================================================================

You sit impatiently on your phone the entire time you’re waiting for John, idly flicking through spam emails and checking the site traffic you have at the moment. Today has been pretty good, considering everything. You’ve got a rad new SBAHJ to release tonight as well, which you’re sure will boost the traffic as well.  
Then, you hear an enthusiastic, “hey Dave!” From down the hall, and you turn off and hide your phone as fast as you can. That fuck isn’t going to make fun of your phone case of the day, which is an attractive phone case, covered in unimportant and forgettable Call of Duty characters. It’s perfect, reflecting a long struggle to become noticed in the world. You know John won’t get your deep thoughts on the philosophy of a first person shooter though, so you just hide it and save yourself the pain.

“There he is, the man of the hour, enemy of the state, kid about to get his sorry ass kicked from here to Nebraska...” You stand up then, and get into a stance like you’re about to punch John and steal his lunch money or some shit. 

And then the asshole sits down, and he looks up at you, smiling innocently. Did he seriously just ignore your call for a figh- He holds up what looks like a fresh baked cupcake, and you take it like it’s gold and you’re a poor farmer, dying to earn enough to make it in the big city. Oh, thank you kind soul, all is forgiven. Or, at least, enough is forgiven that you sit down as if you hadn’t just jokingly tried to get a fist fight out of your new... Friend?

Haha, oh man, you sound pathetic. Yeah, John is your friend now. You’re just going to confidently accept that, and act on it. You’re friends now, so you can bump shoulders with him and sit close to him. You nibble on the cupcake, and watch as he unpacks his lunch some more, presenting a variety of foods. Damn. “Damn,” Bro usually gave you $5 or a pizza pocket or something, but this kid had a full variety. 

John seems to notice that your lunch seems lacking beside his as well, and he turns to you, mouth absolutely packed with rice from his ravenous eating, “do...” He pauses, finger up to your face, and swallows his food before speaking again, “you not have a lunch?” When all you respond with is a $5 bill, he looks horrified, and promptly stands up, “lets go buy you something then!”

For a moment, you think he’s joking, and you’re about to say so, when he grabs your hand and tugs you up, lunch already somehow packed and at his side, “come on!”

You tell yourself that you are a very hardened emotionless fuck, and this isn’t that important. That doesn’t at all change the fact that John’s hand is really warm in your own, and you squeeze his as he drags you around. “So, do you just up and grab anybody who suits your fancy, Egbert? Not very classy,” he snorts out a laugh, so you keep going, “I’m not here to play softcore either, you better be serious about this. Hand holding is a sign or something special, I hope you know that. In fact, I’d say it’s calling for a bit of an unofficial engagement. I’m gonna have to slap this down in my big ol’ book of John as the first date,” why is he walking so fast while you talk? You’re definitely running out of air, god. 

That finally gets him to pause, turning back to face you, “are you telling me you’ve got a book on me? That’s really creepy,” but he’s laughing, and you don’t feel bad about it. As long as he smiles like that, you don’t think you’ll feel bad about a lot. Besides, he’s stopped walking so quickly, which is a fucking relief. 

“Have you seen your face? Who wouldn’t have a big book on anything looking like you,” shit. This is heading into flirting territory fast, but you swear you just can’t NOT, and you don’t know if that’s because he’s been so nice to you or not.

“I guess my face is pretty nice... You’re right, you are completely blessed to have me as a friend now, I can accept your book. In fact, I’ll get you a signed photograph of my face for Christmas, or your birthday, or maybe both. You can never have enough of me,” he looks so damn smug as you stand side by side, hand in hand. It almost really is like a date, in some ways.

“Oh, you’ve blessed me, I can’t believe my idol John Egbert is giving me his photo. I’ll cherish it, and frame it, and kiss it every single night. Then, in my dreams, we’ll be married and you’ll show me off to all your other fans to make them jealous. What a life, I can’t wait to share it with you,” you speak as deadpan as you can, and by the time you’re done he’s making these cute little snorty wheezy laughs that have you chuckling as well. You’re stopped outside the front of some little pizza shop, both laughing at each other, and you’re pretty sure you never want to let this dweeb out of your life.

===================================================================================

It takes you a few minutes to calm down, but when you do, your face is lit up in a smile, and you’re wiping a few stray tears from your eyes. You don’t think you’ve laughed like this in a while, and it was over something so pointless and stupid! “God, you’re such an idiot. Come on, lets go get you some lunch.”

“Do I have to, moooom?” He looks like he wants to argue, but you’ve opened the door to the shop, and the fresh smell of pizza has you both shuffling in enthusiastically. 

“You better get yourself something good!” You tell him, and then look around for someplace to sit. You unpack your lunch while he orders, and end up feeling kind of silly eating little pieces of cucumber while he gets melty and delicious fast food. 

That is, until he comes back holding a whole pizza, setting it down and opening it up, “that was five dollars?”

“Of course not, you loser. Found some more bills in my pocket, or something. Have a slice,” he pushes the box towards you, and after a second you take a slice with a muttered thank you, biting into it.

Your eyes go wide as you pull back, cheese stretching, and when it falls apart you chew it up and swallow, “oh my god! It’s so good, why haven’t I been here before?” He shrugs, and bites into his own slice, producing similar results. 

“Holy SHIT, why is this pizza so good?” The two of you both eat eagerly then, not really talking much at all until the entire box is empty, and you’re both idly nibbling on the salad your dad packed you, “goddamn, that pizza was so good.”

“I think I’m in one of those food comas people talk about now...” You rub your stomach slowly, and a loud burp escapes you, making you grin, “fuck yeah.”

“Eh... I give it a seven,” Dave replies, and at the offended look on your face he continued, “yeah, it was good, but it lacked that wet sound that makes the resonation of the burp echo. Man, you gotta try harder next time. Make it disgusting, make stuck up moms at pep rallies glare at you. Get little kids to stare at you in absolute fucking awe. Make your family proud.”

“I think you’re just jealous because my burp was better than any you’d ever make!” You wave a cherry tomato threateningly at him, which he takes from you, rubbing between his fingers. 

“You don’t know that, can’t prove it, never will,” and then he pops the tomato into his mouth. It’s silent for a moment after that, because conversations about burps and the level of skill you possess in burping can only last so long. Dave looks a bit uncomfortable with the silence, and you wonder if he feels awkward before you hear him ask you, “what’s your family like, anyway?”

“Huh?” You jerk back into focus, and then you shrug, trying to think of how to word it. A few seconds pass, and then Dave’s foot brushes yours under the table and you begin to speak, “I guess... It’s normal. It’s just me and my dad, and we have a little house in the suburbs.. He works at some boring business place, does stocks. It makes us a pretty good living. He likes to bake too, so there’s always some sort of fresh baked thing in the house! He used to use really gross cake mixes to do it too, but now he’s sort of on some sort of organic kick and he’s been buying everything and doing it from scratch. Do you know how much better organic brownies are than box mix?” Dave nods, as if he has any idea what you’re talking about, but he doesn’t look like he really wants to interrupt you, so you keep going. 

“He’s kind of weird too! He speaks Mandarin and English, and because a lot of the work he does is trade stuff, he always comes home speaking this weird mix of them! It’s like he can’t decide which one he’s speaking. I’m not even good at Mandarin, it’s really confusing and shit. But he loves me, and he’s proud of me, and I like having him as a dad.” You finally feel like you’ve summed up your home life, so you meet what you hope is Dave’s eyes through his sunglasses, smiling at him, “what about you?”

“Me?” Dave asks, as if there was anyone else you could possibly be talking to. But once he realises that, yeah, you mean him, he seems to brighten up. It doesn’t even take him any time to begin talking, obviously enthusiastic about sharing his family to you, “just you and your dad, huh? Same here, except I live with my older Bro. He’s... Really fucking weird, but still pretty cool and shit. He taught me how to swordfight and shit. He makes pretty big revenue too, doing a bunch of weird shit. Apparently, it’s mostly selling puppet porn, but I don’t believe that. Not like it matters though, the fucking puppets still cover every inch of the house,” you wince then, and he laughs, nodding a bit, “you get used to it, but it’s still pretty weird to have fucking puppet dong staring you down when you’re trying to make a grilled cheese.”

You look more than a little shocked at the mental image this guy provides, some tool holding a sword in one hand and some sort of humanoid cock puppet in the other. You wonder where the hand goes to move the puppet, until Dave speaks up again, “we eat a lot of takeout and shit. He’s cool, and I’m glad he’s taking care of me, but the guy can’t cook for shit. Get your dad to give him lessons or something.”

Imagining your Dad trying to teach anybody to cook makes you laugh, because all you can recall is what you’re sure is hundreds of wasted pies all giving their lives for the sake of a prank. Sure, it never gets old, and it’s a noble cause, but you’re sure that’s not what Dave is asking for. Either way though, when he raises an eyebrow at you, all you do is laugh a little and shake your head. He doesn’t need to know.

You look at your phone then, and when you see the time you realise you’ve just accidentally skipped most of fourth block. “Shit,” you mutter, and when Dave looks at his own watch he curses much the same way. You both pack up your stuff quickly, hopeful that you’ll make it back in time for fourth at least. 

“Sorry Dave, I didn’t mean to make us late!” You apologize, as you walk out of the pizza place into the autumn chill.

“Nah, man, it’s alright. Pretty cool to hang out with a loser like you,” his hand rests between you, and after a second, you grab it, trying to warm your own.

He turns to you with an unreadable expression then, and you only smile, bumping his shoulder with your own, “I could say the same about you, dork. But we can hang out again at lunch tomorrow, right? This was pretty fun.”

“Definitely,” Dave’s expression moves into a smile then, and he holds your hand tightly, “can’t believe some asshole dragged me off to the best damn pizza place in the city, and it’s right by our school. What is this, some sort of romance novel? Next you’re gonna find a cheap flower place next door to my house and start showing up with roses or some shit.”

You laugh then, giving him a little shove again “I don’t even know where you live, Dave!” Instead of answering, Dave just shoves back, and you both push each other while still holding hands until you reach the school. Obviously, you hold the door open for him, and you both walk in, a rush of warm air washing over you both. 

Reluctantly, you pull your hand from his, and you both shuffle around awkwardly as if you’d actually been on a date. You throw your arms around him anyway, and he hugs back quickly, obviously just as touch starved as you are. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you hear whispered into your ear, and then you pull back from each other and he’s walking away.

You touch your cheeks, and when you find them red, your face bursts into a grin and you walk off as well, a bounce in your steps. You can’t believe how well you and Dave hit it off, this is great!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I want pizza now.


	3. Love of Gross Dead Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "cross that boat and burn that river when you reach it" - J.K. Rowling, famous political leader of Kansas. Or something.

It’s actually kind of pathetic, but when you sit down at home to do your homework, you promise yourself extra time to look at whatever bullshit John has so lovingly crafted for you IF you finish all your work on time.

Normally, you’d think that’s fucking useless. Why would anything stop you from the urge to wander off and distract yourself with copious amounts of Doritos, bad video games, and mini dagger strifes with your Bro?

Apparently John and his shitty fucking handwriting are enough, because when you sit your ass down you feel more motivated than you ever have before. That is, motivated to get your homework shit out of the way. Bye bye, English. Essay outlines continue to suck and needlessly draw the project out, and absofuckinglutely nothing is new.

A good forty minutes later and you’re finally done everything, cracking open your textbook with every intention to learn. That is, learn about what John has to say to you. Who the fuck cares about the life cycle of a virus when you could learn about the life cycle of a total loser.

The first thing you notice is his notes about your request to fight. They have you shaking your head in disbelief, because this cushy asshole honestly thinks he’d ever best you in a fight. You’d like to see him try! Even off your home territory, you’re a goddamn monster. You’re a beast. Unbeatable. Except against Bro... And you’ve never fought anybody else...

Either way, you are undeniably fucking incredible at the art of strifing and fighting and there is nothing to say otherwise in the whole world. You are, and continue to be, the BEST. 

Since you’ve reminded yourself of that, you go ahead and think about the question John asked you. Why are you taking Biology? Of course, the answer seems fucking easy to you. Your eyes drift over to the collection of dead things you’ve so lovingly assembled, and you blow a kiss towards the aborted fetus you keep in the centre of the display. Your prized possession.

Okay, that was weird, and you are never going to admit to doing that out loud. You quickly turn back to your textbook and pretend you didn’t just adoringly air smooch a fetus. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re just going to write down your reasons why and forget this. 

“haha oh man guess i better sit you down and explain a little something to you  
you know whats super fucking cool?  
dead shit is super fucking cool  
the glassy staring eyes and the unmoving organs and the smell of formaldehyde in the morning when you walk into the classroom  
and all the squeamish kids look all scared and go hide in the library or something  
fucking incredible  
im not a murderer or anything though god  
taxidermy is just really goddamn cool and you should be jealous of my collection  
maybe someday ill show you hey  
obligatory winky face you feel me  
but yeah im taking the class to dissect shit and inhale the scent of chemicals  
anyway why are you taking bio mister stuck up elitist fucking nerd”

Oh man, you are so cool. John is gonna be up to his nose in fucking heaps of jealousy over what a straight up and fucking awesome dude you are. You’re like a cool nerd, using your powers for awesome shit like preserving dead things instead of staring at dumb math formulas on a gross ass grimy white board or some shit. You’re a science hero, reminding kids everywhere that you can use your Bill Nye childhood to grow into something awesome that fits right between the law breaking badassery that is Walter White and the straight cut salvation that is Darwin, or something. You don’t know a lot of scientists. 

You’re not cool enough to ignore homework though, so, having said what needed to be said to that nerdy asshole, you move the post-it notes aside and get to work on your homework. Better learn how viruses spread before you get five thousand of them, or some useless shit. Hell, you’ve never had Chicken Pox! Maybe you’ll get it from reading this book. Only continuing to read will answer your inquiries. 

Biology homework keeps you busy until at least eight, and then you go eat and bicker with Bro a little. By then, it’s nine, and you go shower, because you demand the right to smell fucking amazing. Then, you play video games and wind down for a few hours. John’s pesterchum catches your attention a few times, and you wonder if it’d really be out of line to message him at this point. But you’re so cool, you decide you don’t actually care. If you want to talk to John, you will.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 22:31 --

TG: yo whats up

Shit. You don’t actually know what to say to him. Better just make something up on the spot.

TG: still thinking about that pizza we had  
TG: thinking tomorrow we can figure out something cool as well  
TG: pretty sure theres a candy shop nearby maybe we can just stuff our faces  
TG: you be the kid ill be the parent okay  
TG: ‘daddy can i have some candy’ i dunno little shit are you gonna do your chores  
TG: better fucking see the lawn mowed down to nothing tomorrow if i buy you these fucking gummy peaches or whatever shit the kids are eating these days  
TG: hell are they selling call of duty gummies yet yum you can eat war crimes for your after school snack  
TG: dont forget mountain dew flavoured controller gummies with a little hint of dorito backwash yum yum fucking yum  
TG: forget fruit by the foot too kids these days are fucking extreme its fruit by the mile  
TG: an entire walk to schools worth of sugary candy goodness disguised as a family friendly school snack  
TG: which reminds me what the fuck is even up with schools these days  
TG: apparently you cant even have candy at school parties anymore wtf  
TG: draining all the fun out of schools like what the fucks next  
TG: gonna see kids looking like that marshmallow guy from ghostbusters  
EB: i love ghostbusters!  
TG: what the fuck how long have you been watching me type  
EB: i dunno? for at least ten minutes?  
EB: i wanted to see how long you’d keep typing before you burnt out!  
EB: but then you brought up ghostbusters and i couldn’t resist...  
TG: damn you must really like that film or some shit  
EB: of course i love that movie, it’s a classic! not just for halloween but all the time.  
EB: that movie shaped who i am today, i think.  
TG: haha thats fucking sad actually  
EB: wow, fuck you! ghostbusters is wholesome fun, just like me.  
TG: fun for the whole family hey egbert  
TG: ;) ;)  
EB: you wish.  
EB: also you’re a dick.  
EB: now you have to tell me something you do for fun so i can make fun of you.  
TG: you cant make fun of me im fucking perfect  
EB: dave! you don’t get to come here and have fun and i don’t.  
TG: uh yeah that is exactly what i get to do  
TG: but fine i guess youve convinced me ill share my secrets  
TG: i sword fight with my bro sometimes  
TG: we used to do it on top of our apartment when we lived in houston but now we just do it in the backyard or at a tennis court or something like tools  
EB: holy shit, are you serious?  
EB: with real swords? like, sharp swords?  
TG: no we use pool noodles  
TG: yes we fucking use real swords you loser  
EB: you could get seriously hurt!  
TG: haha oh man remind me to show you my scars sometime i swear  
TG: youre gonna piss yourself outta fear and then like cum out of complete and utter awe at my awesome display of sexiness  
EB: ew, gross.  
TG: you saying theres something wrong with that  
EB: YES!  
EB: fear pissing is generally not a very enjoyable thing.  
TG: how would you know that egbert  
TG: got some personal experiences you wanna share or something  
EB: ...  
EB: hey what was living in houston like?  
TG: pretty cool but i dunno  
TG: theres no asshole losers hiding stories about pissing outta fear there so  
TG: spill the beans  
EB: did you have any trouble with our homework today? i thought it was easy.  
TG: dont make me ask you loudly in public  
TG: have these middle-class moms covering their kids ears or some shit to save them from the horror  
TG: piss jokes  
EB: fuck okay fine! but stop asking.  
EB: one time in third grade i got suspended for a week because i made a student teacher piss himself out of fear.  
EB: i thought he was stupid so i kept pranking him and they got worse and worse.  
EB: my dad may have been involved too?  
TG: holy shit thats not what i thought youd say at all  
TG: you were a fucking monster werent you  
TG: terrorizing some asshole up to his neck in student debts god what the hell did he even do to you  
EB: he kept giving us homework on memorizing the sevens timetables or something, god, i don’t even remember!  
EB: but he sucked either way.  
EB: i haven’t done a big prank in a while because of school... i should soon!  
TG: goddamn remind me not to get on your bad side  
EB: i don’t just prank my enemies dave.  
TG: holy shit remind me not to get on ANY of your sides then  
EB: yeah okay, i guess i might. if i’m in the mood to be nice.  
EB: it’s almost eleven thirty though, i think i’m gonna go to sleep now!  
TG: yeah okay night dude see you tomorrow  
EB: meet you outside the bio classroom?  
TG: sounds good  
TG: we can hang for lunch again  
EB: awesome! i’ll see you then!

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

You fuck around on the internet for at least half an hour after that, but there’s not much to do, so eventually you just decide to sleep. And when you slip into your bed, you find yourself thinking about John and his dumb smile until you’ve fallen asleep. Man, friendship is fucking incredible. 

When you wake up you feel almost weirdly well rested, and you easily get yourself out of bed, dressed, and headed for school. You tell yourself it’s because you cleaned your sheets that weekend, but, honestly, you can’t help but think of John. Being around him wakes you up, which is a fucking good thing, and it’s definitely exciting. 

What’s not exciting is how you don’t even get to see him until AFTER Biology. There’s really nothing to do except draw, and learn, you guess. So, being the well rounded student you are, you spend ten minutes drawing an awed John staring at your scarred up back. Hell yeah, you are the man, it is you.

After class, when you see John in the hall and hand him his textbook, he hugs you. Out of the blue, he just grabs you around the waist and squeezes. Even if it’s completely fucking random, it’s still really fucking nice, and you take a moment to bury your face into his neck to inhale his scent. He’s kinda like a teddy bear in a way, with those weird, hairy, muscular arms he’s got. You really like it. And then he pulls away, and you fight down the urge to beam at him while he beams at you, before you hear the bell and rush off to your next class. 

===================================================================================

You have NO idea what you were thinking, hugging Dave like that out of the blue! But... Well, you just thought of the hug he’d given you yesterday, and you kind of figured the more you hugged the more normal it’d get to hug him! And then you could enjoy more things like that, right?

It’d made sense in your head. And, obviously it wasn’t even that bad! He’d hugged back, he’d hugged back really, REALLY tightly, actually. And you’re pretty sure he was smelling you too, in a non creepy way. It was comforting. And if you’d kept hugging, you think he’d probably nuzzle you, and maybe he’d whisper to you again? He’d be really warm too, and you could wrap your arms all the way around him because he’s so goddamn thin, and then he’d look up at...

You’re snapped out of your daydream when the teacher drops a worksheet on your desk, and you let out a muffled little, “thanks.” After that little catastrophe, which has since left your cheeks bright red, you decide it’s time to stop imagining what it’s like to hug Dave for ages and instead read ~~your textbook~~ the notes he’d left you.

A few seconds later, you come to two conclusions. The first is that Dave has no idea how you’d really react to scars. The second is that Dave collects gross dead shit, and also thinks it is cool. Regardless of the conclusion though, it all boils down to one singular thought: what a fucking loser! 

Sure, if you for whatever reason found yourself at his house, you’d probably check out his collection, even if you think dead things are disgusting, and you have no shame in admitting that it’s a pretty interesting hobby. But it’s weird! At least explains why he’s taking Biology, if he gets to dissect things... You almost wish you could be there to see his face when he DOES dissect something! You bet he gets an excited little smile on his face or something, and he’s probably super meticulous. 

You take a deep breath, and promptly kick yourself in the calf, because you NEED to stop fantasizing about Dave in the middle of class for no reason! You’re going to see him in less than an hour too, there’s literally no point in it. God, you feel like such a tool for being so interested in him in weird ways. You’re just going to write him some generic post-it note message and be done with it.

It’s hard to will something to say out of thin air when you haven’t actually spoken out loud since your last block though, and for a good minute you just glare at your textbook while the teacher talks. 

“i guess that’s a good reason to take biology...  
don’t you feel like they’re staring at you or something?  
maybe not, considering your brother apparently makes puppet porn!  
what does that even look like though i mean  
it sounds so fucking weird, who even gets off to that?”

That’s probably the best you can come up with for now, but you figure it’s good enough! Especially since when you see him at lunch you know your mind is just going to be swimming with things you want to say to him. You don’t even know what those things are, but you know they’ll come to you. And, if they don’t, he can fill the silence with his weird wordy rambles. 

You kick yourself again, harder, and the pained sound you make is enough to get a few people staring at you. All you do in response is make a vague, ‘I’m fine,” sort of motion, which seems to be enough to get people to shrug you off and go back to what they were doing. Which is packing their stuff. Class is almost over.

God, you spent at least half a Biology class dreaming about Dave. What the fuck is wrong with you? Sure, you haven’t made a new friend in a few years, but HONESTLY, this can’t be normal! You almost want to call it a... No.

No, no, no. You tell yourself no until the bell rings, and when you leave you’re firmly set on letting yourself get as close as you can to Dave. Your friendship will be infinitely strong and unbreakable, and you are NOT letting dumb gay feelings get involved in this! Friendship is super important and you need friends like Dave to support you through the mess that is high school! 

===================================================================================

You’re fucking screwed. Yeah, you say that a lot (especially on days beginning in Sun, anytime you’re up past 2:30 in the morning, and anytime during Finals Week,) but you really think you mean it this time. You’d completely fucking zoned out in third block, which was really nothing new, except for the topic of your daydreaming.

John and his big fucking arms. Why are they so damn big? You gotta ask the guy if he works out. Maybe you should work on not thinking about him so fucking much though, because you know exactly what road your train of thought is steadily leading you down. Choo choo, all aboard the romance train, one way ticket all the way to desiretown and attraction city. You’re definitely not putting yourself through that. 

And then he turns the corner, and you feel your heart in your throat. Shit, what if he heard what you were thinking? You were thinking about him so loudly, and you were sure that he’d look at your face and know that you were nursing the little bud of a bad crush. Instead, he just smiles at you, and his hand is outstretched enough for you to know that your job is to take it in your own and walk with him.

“I got my dad to make me an extra sandwich for lunch, so I figured we could both eat a sandwich, and then we can go straight to the candy store. Sound good? I even know a place where we can eat our sandwiches, it’ll be awesome, I promise.” You nod for him like a good friend, thinking it’ll be stupid, but as he walks you outside you realise pretty quickly how sweet he’s being. 

And, true to his word, he leads you confidently out of the school and across the street, up a little hill. You talk about unimportant things until you reach your destination, and then John does that jazz hands thing to present the area, complete with a charming little, “tah dah!” He’s gesturing at a tree on a hill, with a shady spot under it, and you shuffle up the hill, John quite chivalrously using his jacket as your shared seat. 

It’s only when you do sit that you realise why he picked this area. Your school was already on a sort of mountain, but from where you are you can see all the way down into row upon row of house, and even the few skyscrapers that litter the little town you both live in. It’s fucking incredible, and John knows it, because he’s giving you that smug little look that says he does. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving his shoulder with your own.

John only smiles wider, leaning close so you HAVE to see his face. “I wasn’t talking!” Fucking asshole.

“You’re smugness speaks enough for you,” is really all you can counter with, but obviously he’s too pleased to care, shrugging and reaching for the sandwiches. You forgive him pretty quickly when he opens the container, pulling out a sandwich more reminiscent of a sub before handing it to you. 

“I hope this is enough food for you, Dave. I know you probably pig out every single meal of the day,” he looks guilty. You want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You don’t want to dignify him with a response, but you are definitely weak, “man, shut the fuck up. This looks goddamn delicious, and I’m gonna devour this delicious sub like a kid who just got food after being dragged around the mall for three hours by some overenthusiastic parents shopping for new pants or a lawn mower or something,” that seems satisfying enough for John, because he begins to eat his own sandwich, swaying a little as he does. What is up with this guy? He’s so goddamn endearing, and he’s such a fucking cheerful asshole. It’s jarring, but still so natural on him. 

After you’ve spent at least two minutes staring at John eat, sandwich poised over your open mouth, he catches you. He fucking smiles, which is embarrassing, and gives you a little shove, still shamelessly pleased with himself, “careful you don’t let any flies get in there!”

You can’t just go down without a fight, not for the second time this hour. So you bring your sandwich down a little, giving him your own smug little grin. You know your shades hide your eyes too, which just gives you the perfect amount of assholery to make the look work. “You know I can’t stand not looking at trainwrecks in action, it’s just human nature Egbert.”

“Or you find me super attractive, and think my arms are hot and my face is hot,” he flexes his arm in the most obnoxious way, but goddamn does that hit close to home. He probably knows it too, prankster fuck. 

And you’re about to give the best fucking counter argument ever when you feel it. The first drop lands on your nose, and you cup it with one hand, staring up at the tree above you. You realise that the sky is grey about the same time John is hastily shoving his container of food back into his lunch kit. 

It doesn’t matter though, because then it’s like god opened the reign of pissing angels upon the skies of Washington. It’s pounding down on the tree above you, deafeningly loud, and you let out out a yell, trying to cover your head against the sudden assault of water on your head.

John laughs at you, despite how wet he’s getting as well, and he holds his hand out. You never saw him stand up either, god. You’re a mess, you think. But you take his hand, and grab his jacket, and then you’re running to the closest cover you can find. 

Your good buddy laughs the entire way, obviously having the time of his fucking life, which you find dumb as hell. Until you’re under the cover of some Chinese restaurant, that is. Then you’re laughing as well, both of you fucking dripping with water. You shake your head like you’re a dog, and John squeals, swatting his hands at you, and then you’re both losing your shit all over again. 

Laughter eventually turns into shivering on your part though, and you wrap John’s jacket around yourself, smiling at him through your chattering teeth. In response, he wraps his arm around you, and you stand together watching the rain fall for a while, comfortable. 

You honestly never thought you’d enjoy the rain this way. It’s always been something you tried to avoid, being the Texan born and raised little tyke you were. You’ve got this sense in your gut that John is going to change the way you see a lot of things, and you curl against his side, trying to steal some more warmth. If he’s going to change you, he can at least keep you warm. 

Regardless of how he changes you, as long as you’ve got a friend like him you think it’ll be pretty okay. Plus, you’re pretty sure if he changes you, you’ll do the same to him. That’s how friendship works, in your experience. 

“Hey, earth to Dave? You there,” John gives you a little shake, and you blink a few times before you realise you’d actually zoned out thinking about the asshole. You blame the rain, it’s louder than he is anyway. Poor guy must be yelling. Your hand reaches out and rubs under his neck in apology, which prompts a laugh from him, “yeah, you too Dave. Come on, lets go get you inside the candy store before I need to amputate your middle finger. How will you drive properly without it?”

You laugh a little bit, but you’re pretty sure you’re cold enough that you’re shutting down, even with John beside you. It seems even more likely when you step inside the store in question, and immediately feel yourself thawing, your personality awakening from hibernation.

“I hope you like sugar,” you eventually decide, and grab the biggest plastic bag to fill with bulk candy, “help me fill this thing, or I’m only getting shit with peanuts in it, because fuck you,” you think the cashier glares at you, but John only smiles and goes to get some marshmallow candies for your delicious candy bag. 

Ten minutes later and you’ve got a giant bag of candy, both of you walking out of the store and sharing from the bag. It’s definitely a good system, especially with how he keeps holding your hand and just reaching over. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to let go, and you like that. You think you like a lot of things about John, honestly. You don’t really know how to feel about that yet, but you’ll cross that boat and burn that river when you reach it, or something like that. All you know is that you like John, and he likes you, and nothing else matters with the two of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never seen breaking bad in my life. And Finals Week is capitalised because it is daunting.


	4. Marital Bliss

The next week seems to breeze by faster than you can keep track of it. You and Dave just get closer and closer, to the point where you’re meeting up before school, at lunch, and sometimes after school! You still trade the post-it notes as well, because those are definitely just your thing and you like them.

You learn so much about Dave as well! You learn that he actually knows how to mix music and use a lot of weird music equipment. You learned that those weird things that looked like toys you’d seen people use on Youtube were called Launchpads, and just how expensive you were. You also learn he’s kind of a lonely asshole, and vow to one day introduce him to your cousin Jade. 

And it’s not like you don’t tell him things either! You tell him ALL about Jade, and about how you play the piano, and some of your more successful pranks. Yet, no matter what, the two of you get along fucking great, and it’s natural to shift to calling Dave your best friend both in your head and to others. 

Even after this much time and bonding though, it occurs to you that haven’t actually had Dave over to your house, or seen his! And, with the weekend looming over your head, you figure now is as good as any to take advantage of your great messaging system to speak to him.

“hey, dave?  
we’ve been together for almost three decades now...  
haha jk but we HAVE been getting closer!  
i think we should take the next step in our relationship, dave.  
it’s time for you to meet my parent.”

You just don’t think that asking Dave to do things will ever work if you don’t take the appropriate amounts of caution to include not-really flirting, which for some reason Dave calls ironic, but whatever. You don’t even know what real irony is, you just zoned out in English class and waited for it to end. At the same time, you think Dave did as well, but you’ll let him have his hobbies.

The time you spend thinking about both your hobbies occupies your mind then, until the bell rings and sets you free from Biology. Tonight is Dave’s night with the textbook, so you take it with you to lunch to give it back to him. You fully expect him to study himself out tonight, even if it IS Thursday, and the weekend looms invitingly over your heads. 

You head to your now familiar meet up spot with Dave then, and you hear a “hey dweeb,” right in your ear, before arms are around your waist and you’re smiling a little. You like hugging Dave when you see him, squeezing him tight and rocking a little before you pull back. Usually, hugs always felt awkward and uncomfortable with other people, but with Dave it’s so easy.

“Hey, asshole,” you whisper, and then you both pull away from each other, smiling a bit, “pizza day?”

“Fuck yeah,” he takes your hand and drags you off, and you walk quickly so you won’t miss class like you did that one time. Sure, it’d been worth it, but not something you’re willing to make a habit of. 

You walk quietly, distracted by how each breath you exhale makes a puff of air appear in front of you. The winter chill that’s steadily settling over the area is definitely not unwelcomed, especially with how it gets Dave to stand a little closer whenever you’re near him. You definitely like that.

But Dave pulls you from your thoughts with a nudge to the shoulder, and you turn to him, “what’s up?”

“You know how when we were talking about music, you said you played the piano, right?” You nod, remembering that post-it conversation well. “I was just thinking... Man, you should totally play for me sometime. Sound good?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you reply, because as often as you play, you still get nervous. You know if you play for Dave you’re going to be SO scared he won’t like it! That’d suck. But Dave looks really eager about it, for some reason, so you figure that you trust him enough to get over your nerves.

He holds open the door to the pizza parlor then, and after a bit of bowing and joking around, you both find yourselves seated and ordering your regular. It’s nice, being with Dave so routinely, and each second more that you talk about nothing you think you’ll play for him. And, hey, if he comes to your house, there’d be no reason NOT to!

===================================================================================

You don’t find a lot to talk about with John while you eat, honestly. It’s just quiet, and comfortable. You’re just glad that, as busy as you are, there’s still time in your life to quietly eat some damn good pizza with your best friend.

And the hug you share when you get back to the school is slow and warm. John must know how cold you are, he’s so eager to share his warmth with you. All you want, really, is a sweater made of John to keep you warm.

Instead, you keep the feelings of his arms wrapped around you close to you to imagine warm things, all the way through until you’re trekking home in the cold. And the first thing you do when you get home? Lay out your homework, obviously, and get to work on English to resist the urge to open your Biology textbook and see whatever message he’d left you.

You work quickly, and even if you’re sure it’s nowhere near top quality work, you don’t care. Soon enough you’ve got all your shit done and organized, and then you’re tugging open your textbook and grinning as you read. 

John wants to get married. Well, okay, no he doesn’t, but he wants you to come over. And since you’d been asking about the piano... You know all at once that when you two meet up it’ll be more explosive than some fifth graders science fair volcano project. You’re pretty sure those things are nuclear or something now, since baking soda and vinegar just isn’t cutting it anymore. You two are like a nuclear science fair volcano, obviously.

“yeah id fucking love to meet mr egbert  
ive gotta ask for his blessing to marry the little egbert  
(thats you btw)  
i cant wait to get the rings itll be fucking awesome  
lots of diamonds for my princess  
(still you btw)”

As great as you think textbook messages are, you still think that it’s probably for the best that you send your buddy a few messages on Pesterchum to organize things. So, with all the ease of someone willing to stay up until 3am to talk to your best friend, you open a chat to speak to him.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 20:17 --

TG: hey eggs  
EB: hey dave!  
EB: what’s up?  
TG: what cant a guy talk to his buddy around here  
EB: yeah, okay, but now i know you have to talk about something  
TG: stfu  
TG: you got me i guess  
TG: was wondering if you actually wanted to hang  
TG: i was thinking saturday or something  
EB: yeah sure!  
EB: how about a sleepover? i haven’t had one of those in years!  
TG: how fucking dorky  
TG: sounds great  
TG: would you go ahead and set yourself up like mozart for me  
EG: no promises! ;) but maybe!  
EB: i guess you will just have to see...  
EB: come by at like four?  
TG: sounds good to me dude  
TG: its gonna be fucking awesome i cant wait  
EB: hell yeah! we can talk ALL night, and watch movies, and play games.  
EB: and dad will make so many snacks!  
EB: oh man, i better tell him you’re coming actually.  
TG: yeah thats probably a good idea  
TG: see you tomorrow at lunch?  
EB: yeah i’ll see you tomorrow too!  
TG: bye nerd  
EB: yeah yeah, bye!

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

===================================================================================

When you see Dave’s message in third block, you actually smile wide enough at your textbook that the teacher gives you a look. You manage to focus on her just so she’ll ignore you again, but oh man! Dave is coming over! You can’t wait.

You’ll need to go grocery shopping, and also probably tell your dad to not go completely overboard with baking, and you DEFINITELY need to plan some awesome pranks, but you’re really doing it! Soon enough, Dave will be inside your house, and he’ll be there all night, and Dad will be so proud of you.

===================================================================================

Friday passes in a blur, and Saturday morning really feels like a constant waiting game to head to John’s house until you’re actually out the door and walking. 

It doesn’t actually hit you what you’re doing until you’re already less than five minutes away from John’s home. And then, it hits you so hard you actually have to stop walking for a minute to lean on some tree and take deep breaths. 

Sure, it doesn’t seem a big deal at first! It’s just visiting his house for a sleepover, right? You watch movies, eat junk food, talk all night, and maybe sleep a little. Nothing special or out of the ordinary! Except you’re going to meet John’s dad, and be in his house for the first time, AND be around him all night. Honestly, it’s really overwhelming and you never expected that. 

But John wouldn’t invite you over unless he wanted you over, you tell yourself, and you remind yourself about how excited John had been when he’d invited you over until you feel calm again. And then you feel almost obnoxiously confident, because John likes you enough to be excited to have you around! You’re a fucking treasure and you both know it, obviously. 

You tell yourself you’re a gift to the world the rest of your walk to John’s place, and then you ring the doorbell, rocking on your feet impatiently. You look around at the other houses around you, and can’t help but crack a smile at how some people already have Christmas lights on their homes. They start early these days, don’t they?

John opens the door then, and it spurs you into hugging him tight, your nightbag smacking him square in the back. John is John though, and he just laughs, right before you find yourself tugged into his house, the door closed behind you to fight off the growing winter chill.

All those times John had said that his house smelled like baking, you thought maybe he had been fucking around. But, now, as you hug him, you realise it actually really does. The smell is just faintly of vanilla and coziness, and you like it a lot. 

“Okay, Dave, we can put your stuff in my room, and I’ll show you your bed, and then we can decide what we wanna do! And we’re getting takeout for dinner, so there’s a bunch of menus on the kitchen counter for us to choose from,” he takes your bag for you, and you kick off your shoes, grinning at him.

“Sounds fucking awesome dude. Man, this is gonna be awesome. You, me... Movies, games, gossip. Can’t fucking wait,” you jump up the stairs two at a time, and when he gestures to the door with the movie poster on it, you open the door thoughtlessly to head inside. 

And then you hear the laughter, before it even processes what’s going on. Except, right after you hear the laughing, there’s a bucket of water upturned and your head is soaked. “WHAT THE FUCK,” is all you manage to scream, even as you jump backwards. Lucky fucking you though, you trip over your own feet, and you yell AGAIN as you fall, John absolutely losing his shit beside you.

“O-Oh my god!” John is hunched over beside you, his face red from what you can see. You think he’s crying from laughter, the asshole. You try to kick him, but he only dodges, laughing even more, “I’m sorry Dave, but you should see your face! You look like a sad five year old! Holy shit, stop glaring! Just, hehe, put on your pajamas, I’ll put your clothes in the dryer. I only put water in the bucket!” He’s still laughing occasionally as he speaks, and you’re definitely glaring at him, but then you tug off your wet shirt and throw it at his head, your middle finger getting the chance to shine. 

===================================================================================

You can’t believe Dave fell for that! What a fucking loser. And he looks so offended, sitting on the ground, completely soaked and shirtless. You definitely can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s probably cautious now though, so you walk into your room and put his bag down, gesturing for him to join you.

“Okay, so... You can sleep in my bed with me, or you can sleep on the floor,” you gesture to your own bed, a brand new queen you got for your birthday two years ago, and then raise a finger at him to not speak. You pull off the covers, and reveal a line of pillows down the middle, making gestures at it, “tah dah! It’s to keep us from rolling over onto each other in the night!”

He makes a face, but then shrugs. “Sure, why not. Didn’t think you’d be scared of a little friendly cuddling though, you scoundrel. Would you be tainted for marriage?” And then, because he’s an asshole and totally your friend, he throws himself onto your bed, wet hair and all, and starts shaking himself like a dog to spread his wetness around. You squeak, and push at him, trying to keep him from soaking the room, “can’t stop me Egbert!” He yells, and he keeps shoving you, laughing.

You laugh too, but only a little. You want to laugh more though, so you slowly bring your hands down, and then descend onto Dave’s stomach. He freezes up, and stares at your fingers, and then you start to move them.

“Ooohholyfuckingshitonaskewergodstopit STOP IT I’mticklishittickles HELP HELP!” He kicks at you, and you just lean over him, both of you laughing as you tickle him. But he fights dirty, and you feel hands at your neck, making you squeal and shove at him too, until you just fall on him and pin his arms up, keeping him from moving anymore.

You both laugh for a while, quiet little bursted bubbles of giggling that fill the room for a few seconds before silence fills the room. And then it starts again, your laughter quiet and private for each other. It feels like it goes on for hours, the two of you laughing like that. 

You turn your face then though, and your noses bump. It shocks you, and your eyes go wide as they meet Dave’s. His shades have been pushed up to the top of his head from your tussle, and his eyes meet yours head on for the first time. For a brief moment you’re entranced by startling ruby red, but then you’re entranced by the fact that it’s DAVE, and his face is so close to yours. When he breathes, you feel breath on your lips.

You glance down then, and you can feel his breath catch in his mouth. You know what happens now, you’ve seen it in a million movies. This moment is yours and yours alone, and your lips are going to meet, and his eyes are lidding as you get closer...

Except the door to your room falls shut WAY too loudly, and it shocks you both enough that your forehead hits his, prompting an, “ow FUCK!” From him and a pained whine from yourself as you rub your forehead. When you look at him again, his shades are perched firmly over his eyes again and you think he might be blushing. Fuck.

===================================================================================

Did you really almost just do that with John? Holy shit. You can FEEL your face heating up as you sit, looking away for a moment to collect yourself. The fact that your lips got THAT close to John’s... You honestly can’t believe it.

And if that fucking door hadn’t slammed on you both, there’s no chance you can see of the two of you not locking lips. You’re not sure how to feel about that, and how to feel about what might’ve happened afterwards.

Honestly, you’re not sure how to feel about a lot of things. You know you like John, definitely. You don’t know if he likes you, or if this was a spur of the moment thing, or an atmosphere thing... And you definitely don’t know how he’ll feel when you tell him your biggest secrets. 

He doesn’t seem to be stressing about it though, so when he shoves you with a little, “come on Dave, lets go order dinner,” because you both know how long food can take to get to suburbs like this, you take his hand and hold it tightly, using him to ground yourself as you walk downstairs. John’s house is so cozy, you don’t want to leave. 

John shows you the different takeout menus when you walk into the kitchen, mind lost. That is, until your eyes catch a menu for a Greek place. You haven’t had that in a while. John looks intrigued as well, and you both begin to peer through it, “the pita bread sounds good... and lots of meat and shit.”

“A greek salad?” John adds on, humming under his breath, “oh, they have calamari! I want that too.”

It takes a few minutes then, but you tally things onto a piece of paper and John calls the place up, setting the order for delivery. When he hangs up, you totally high five like two assholes, and then you pull back to wander his kitchen. “Giving myself a tour, okay?”

John follows you with an innocent little, “sounds cool,” although he doesn’t stand close behind you. Obviously, that doesn’t mean anything as you wander his house to give yourself a tour. You see the kitchen, and the living room, and turn into the dining room fully expecting to see a couch and a piano or something.

All you hear is a steady _whoosh_ of air instead, and then your face is buried into a pie, and you’re in shock, standing there. You hear a smacking sound from beside you, and a mixture of familiar John laughter with some deeper, heartier laughter.

When you pull the pie off of your face, and push your shades up, you see that it’s John’s Dad, and both of them are laughing. “Oh my god, OH my god, Dave, you should see your face! You look so annoyed, oh my god! That was PRICELESS!” You walk over to John then, shoving the pie into his face with no finesse at all. Doesn’t matter, he’s pied now as well.

A few minutes later, you find your glasses both cleaned and sitting on a towel to air dry. John puts on a pair of backup frames he keeps around, and you just wander around with your eyes out. He promises that he won’t prank you anymore, which is a little victory at least. Your dinner arrives as well, so when you come back down, (maybe covered with a few soap suds,) to the smell of Greek food, you’re a damn happy asshole.

“We should watch a movie,” is actually what you suggest, and then John is nodding, scooping food containers up into his arms with a passion.

“Oh man! We should uh... I think we should watch an action movie,” he puts the containers down then, and you watch with barely disguised amusement as he pulls open this fucking massive drawer of movies, looking through them, “what about this? It’s called Broken Arrow, I really like it!”

“Looks like shit,” you respond, as honestly as you can. “Like the waste products of Hollywood, the leftover stinky pile of turds that famous directors didn’t want. You know the bloopers from classics like The Breakfast Club? Movies like this are inspired by that. They grow from the trash, like steaming, festering piles of anus waste.”

John just gives you this look, hand poised to open a container of what you think is pita bread, “Dave, I wanted to eat!”

“Yeah, well I didn’t wanna get pied when I visited, but we can’t always win,” John grumbles a little after that, but you both settle down side by side, plates full of food as the movie plays.

An hour later, and most of the food is completely gone. It’s fucking delicious, everything tastes faintly of garlic, and John’s movie taste DEFINITELY sucks. The movie was so bad you’re on the floor now, going through his movie collection with increasing scrutiny, “why the hell do you have Click?”

“It’s a family classic!” John tries so hard to defend himself, haha.

“It’s garbage,” is all you really need to say, putting it back and closing the drawer, “can we give up on this movie yet? My brain hurts from all the memories of shit it’s trying to store, listening to this bullshit.”

John sighs, like you’ve personally hurt him or something, but then the movie is off and he’s standing up to collect your dishes. You go to help him, like a kind guest, and when your hands brush you manage to wiggle your eyebrows a little. He can see that now, which is pretty cool. You like the fact that he can see your eyes right now, it’s making silent communication a lot easier.

When the containers of leftovers are all put away where they need to be, you bump shoulders, getting his attention, “so... Egg Mcmuffin, you gonna play piano like you said you would?”

John jumps, like he hadn’t expected that, and he takes a few moments to compose himself, “are you sure? We could go play some Call of Duty or Mario Kart or something...”

“Man, shut up, you promised me!” You expect his piano playing, and nothing less.

John frowns though, looking sort of worried and maybe a bit scared, “no I didn’t. I’m pretty sure I said _no_ promises, actually!”

“Well, okay, maybe that’s true, but pleeease?” Now you’re pouting, but it doesn’t matter. After a solid minute of the Strider puppy dog eye, John gives, dragging you by your arm to the piano.

“I hate you,” he mutters, but you know he really must love you if he’s going to play music for you after trying so hard NOT to.

===================================================================================

You can’t believe you let Dave talk you into this! It’s so embarrassing, and you’re really scared, and holy shit! But he just looks so excited, you figure he’ll like no matter what you play... You’re tempted to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or something because of it.

Then you decide Dave deserves better, and decide to play the single most goddamn cliche song you can. Just for him.

A Thousand Years, obviously! It’s romantic, it’s overdone, and it was in a shitty movie that you bet Dave loves. Haha, oh man, you wonder if Dave does love Twilight! You’ll ask him after you play the song for him.

Dave sits down behind you, right on the carpet like a little kid, and you pat his head before cracking your knuckles. You’re so ready for this. Then, you crack your knuckles just like you know you shouldn’t, and set your feet down, taking a deep breath. Mentally, you count yourself in, and then you begin to play.

Even with how cliche the song is, you still get into it. The action of playing on the piano is always something you dread, until you’re actually doing it. Probably because when you sit down at it, you want to and will go for hours, wasting away the day and not doing anything useful. With Dave there you just play the one song though, humming under your breath as you do.

You hear quiet sounds coming from behind you as well. You can’t hear them very well over the piano, but you think Dave is laughing! Good, you’re glad he’s enjoying your earnest and emotional song choice. 

===================================================================================

You wipe frantically at your eyes, because holy SHIT. Who told John he could play a love song like that for you, and look so peaceful doing it? You can’t help the way your eyes water up, really! But you still try to hide it, because you don’t want him to see you. And, in the meantime, you try frantically to dry your tears and calm yourself down. 

Time never really seems to listen to you for some reason. The song still ends, and you’re rubbing at your eyes as tears continue to pour from them even when John turns around. Poor fucker is smiling like he’s so proud of himself. Then, he sees your tears, and he’s hugging you tight. Still laughing though, asshole. “I can’t believe you’re crying Dave, god... It’s just a shitty song. From a shitty movie.”

“Shut the fuck u-up,” you shove at him, and he laughs a bit more, squeezing you tight.

His hands are so firm and just... There, you guess, and when they run through your hair you sigh, “I’m sorry Dave,” he tries, but the smile is there in his voice anyway, “I’m glad you liked my piano playing, if that helped.”

“It doesn’t,” you sniffle, and he stands up, getting you to as well.

“Come on, lets go watch another shitty movie and we can stop thinking about piano playing,” it helps that he holds you as you walk, and soon enough you’re both lying on the couch together, John letting you go through Netflix instead of his shitty movie collection. You pick Shark Tale, and relax as the shitty Nemo ripoff plays, John’s arm around playing idly with your hair as you do. 

He may have been laughing at how you’d been crying, but he wasn’t mean to you. In fact, you felt actually sort of cared for, all curled up, his hand on your head. Every second you’re spending with John tells you more and more, you’re falling for him. 

You’re also falling asleep, this movie is so boring. Your eyes fall shut, and you let them, knowing John won’t do anything shitty like shave your eyebrows. You’re safe tonight, and you fall asleep comforted by that. 

Who knew friendship was so damn emotional? Not you. But it doesn't matter, either way you're stuck with it - and John now. Damn, guess you'll just have to deal with having a fucking awesome friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha god how cliche can you GET? i had to google cliche love songs AND shitty action movies.
> 
> the website i used listed con air btw.


	5. Albinism

It’s raining pretty hard when you wake up, and the sound is almost comforting enough to send you right back into the land of the dreaming. That is, until you realise you’re definitely not where you’d fallen asleep. You shoot up, concerned, only to immediately relax and sink back into bed.

You’re in John’s room, and his arm is thrown around your waist, keeping you from escape. Sneaky bastard. You figure he must’ve carried you to bed after you’d fallen asleep, which is equal parts mortifying and fucking precious.

The scales tip more towards precious, and then you’re quick to lie back down right as John’s eyes blink open. They wander, before they meet yours, and a sleepy smile that absofuckinglutely melts your heart spreads across his face. “Hey,” you mutter, brushing his bangs out of his face for him.

His smile just grows wider, and he stretches his arms above his head as you both lie there. He clears the sleep from his mouth with lazy, wet sounds, obviously pretty damn comfortable at the moment. “Hey Dave,” he responds, and he honestly sounds so tired that you end up laughing a bit. “What? What’s wrong?” Aw, poor guy looks confused. How cute.

“You look like a fucking loser,” you flick him in the forehead then, and he swats your hand, slipping out of bed.

“Fuck you, I’m not making you waffles now,” oh shit. You slide after him and hug him from behind pretty quick, trying to be convincing, “but Joooooohn, please? I didn’t come here for you, just for those golden, delicious ass waffles... Don’t make me sing the goddamn waffle song.”

“Okay, god. I don’t even know what the waffle song is, but if you’re threatening me with it I probably don’t want to know.” He shuffles his ass down to the kitchen then, and with you behind him you can note the fact that he has these cute little dimples on his hips. Goddamn...

A moment later you realise you’re basically staring at the top of his ass, and you turn away, trying to act natural. Sure, you don’t usually make a habit of staring at hot dudes, but holy shit. Apparently, John is special.

Then again, anybody who smiles that wide as they get out ingredients to make waffles for a friend must be pretty fucking special. He’s incredible, like some sort of geeky asshole prince from a Disney knockoff hipster who’s too young to know what is and isn’t pathetic and shameless self-indulgence. John is singlehandedly the work of an asshole that didn’t know when to stop, and now the waffle making prince stands before you.

To promptly hit you in the face with the wooden spoon, apparently. You make a shocked, almost hurt noise, and smack at him, pulled out of your thoughts when John gives you a smug grin, “having fun? You look like you left reality for a while there. Can you get the maple syrup for me? It’s in the pantry.”

Purposefully ignoring his attempts to get a rise out of you, with an indignant sound you walk past him and open the pantry, searching until you find the syrup he wants. It goes on the counter, and your elbows rest on the counter as you watch him, “have you ever considered making a living as a street performer? Put on some plaid flannel, get a coffee, sit on the corner of the street and call out people on their lack of indie cred until they throw money at you to shut you up or something...”

“I dunno Dave,” he speaks offhandedly, and you watch as he pours the batter into a waffle iron, a little mesmerized, “I mean... I’m pretty sure you’ve already got the hipster thing all figured out! I wouldn’t want to look like I’m dressing up as my best friend.”

You bite back a laugh, but then you’re shaking your head. “Nah, man, you’ve got it ALL wrong. I’m not a true Seattle hipster, look at me. No flannel, no thick rimmed glasses, no shitty made-up music taste. Fuck, maybe I’ve never heard of the bands because they don’t exist! Who even calls their band Butthole Surfers? Someone who doesn’t exist, obviously.”

“I think you’re just jealous you didn’t think of a name like that first,” John looked so satisfied, handing you a giant ass waffle, turning around to start his own. 

“Okay, maybe that COULD be true, but it isn’t, so fuck you and fuck off,” you shove a piece of waffle into your mouth then, the poor thing absolutely drowned in syrup, and turn to walk away dramatically and eat at the table instead of front of him. 

He sits down beside you a few minutes later, a big waffle on his own. Then, with a teasing smile, he sprays a bunch of whipped cream onto your waffle like a smug asshole. You don’t give a single living shit though, because holy HELL. Whipped cream.

In a way, it’s like John is some sort of god, throwing whipped cream out to the innocent and worshipping masses. And you, being the masses, eagerly consume what he provides you and silently say your prayers. Amen, you’ve been blessed by the white magic of whipped cream.

Then, you try to grab the bottle so you can spray his face, but he only squeezes it tighter and gives you a glare that could make a puppy cry. Of course, it doesn’t last more than a second, when he laughs at your shocked and upset face. “Fucking asshole,” you mutter, chewing on the waffle in front of you. Who knew best friends could be so cruel?

Apparently John, at least considering how he hugged you when he came to sit and eat, ruffling your hair, “sorry dude, didn’t mean to scare you! But, oh man, you should’ve seen your face... I thought you were going to piss in the chair for a second! You were even paler than usual!”

“To be fair, you looked like you were ready to eat me alive,” you respond, which really only makes John laugh at you, “that’s what you get for trying to take my whipped cream after I so graciously gave you some, asshole.”

You both continue to banter pointlessly about waffles and cream, and soon enough you find yourself rinsing the dishes for John while he goes to clean up the living room. You know that soon you’ll have to go, and you really just wish you could find an excuse to stay longer. 

Yet, time continues to be an ever present fucker despite your desires otherwise, and within the hour you find yourself with your overnight bag on your back, hugging John tight. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay Dave?” He mutters into your hair, and you just nod, pulling back with a smile. 

“Talk to you later, nerd!” When you walk away, you already feel coldness running through you, and it’s not just from the weather. 

Once you’re inside your house, you can already feel your goddamn nose dripping from the cold. You squeeze it hard, and drag yourself to your bedroom, immediately kicking off your shoes and falling into bed. You feel like absolute shit, and you really don’t want to do ANYTHING but lie there and stare at the ceiling in absolute sadness.

You feel like you’re going to throw up, almost... But you also feel like you really need to eat an entire Mcdonalds or something, because everything is churning like your stomach wants to digest itself. To try and stop it, you curl up on your side, hands clutched over your stomach. It’s fucking sad as hell and shit that you feel this way after just a _sleepover_ but you honestly can’t help it, and all you can do is wait it out. 

After what feels like at least a pained half hour, the hollow sickness in your gut has passed that other feelings can really talk hold of you. The one you feel most is strong, undiluted, unfiltered, disgustingly mushy affection for John. God, he was such an ASSHOLE, but your cheeks were tinted pink remembering your almost kiss, and how he sang for you, and how he held you as you fell asleep...

You’re fucking pathetic, probably, but you can’t really help it. And, at this point, it was just pointless to deny it. You were falling hard for the asshole. You wanted to kiss him properly, and hold his hand, and do a lot of gross gay shit like cuddle and dance together. 

Finding yourself kicking your feet, blush covered with a pillow really wasn’t even the most shocking part of your day. More accurately, it was the moment when the pillow dropped, and your eyes went wide as you stared at the ceiling, sudden shock hitting you in the stomach like a punch to the gut. 

You haven’t told John your real gender, and that’s a real fucking issue. Sure, it doesn’t come up a lot. Demiboy, cis boy, close enough... In a relationship though, fuck. You couldn’t hide something like that from a boyfriend! That’d be wrong to both of you, really. Fucking shame on humanity or something, a disaster... And what if it was a deal breaker for him?

That’s what really scares you the most. Sure, he could like guys, but how would he feel about you after realising that you only really think of yourself as a dude a little over half the time? You can’t help but feel anxious about it, that hollow sickness from before replaced with acid churning and making you feel like you’ll throw up at a moment’s notice. John could end up hating you, and you’d be unable to do goddamn anything about it.

Ugh, who said you could feel things for other people? This whole romance schtick is utter bullshit and you feel sick to your stomach because of it. Yet, even with concern laced into every cell of your body you find thinking of John comforting in little ways. Fucking pathetic, really. But his fingers are so long and good at rubbing your back...

===================================================================================

When it hit you that Dave was gone, and that you wouldn’t see him again until tomorrow, the house felt _really_ empty. Empty and big. You take off your shirt, and lie on the couch to try and make it feel like you’re blessed with the privacy that being home alone provides, but even with that in mind you just feel lonely.

Eventually, you just give up on the shitty couch and echoey walls, tugging your shirt back on as you head upstairs to your room. You decide, since you’re so lonely, you might as well do some studying. It’d be weird if you started pestering Dave right as he got home, after all. If you wanted to talk so bad, he should’ve just stayed, right? And he’s probably all tucked out for talking.

You wish he was still with you... But too much time together wouldn’t be good either, right? Even though you find yourself sure you definitely would NOT get tired of him, no matter what. Especially, actually, if he talked. When he goes off on useless tangents, you just feel calm. Amused, but relaxed. If his voice was a little quieter, you’re sure you could drift off to the sound of him.

You think that a lot of him you wouldn’t get tired of, if you’re being honest. And then you think about your fucking almost kiss, and you find yourself staring with unseeing eyes at your textbook. You still haven’t quite processed that, let alone figured out what it _means._ Does he like you? Do YOU like him? Maybe... You don’t really know for sure yet.

His eyes! You remember them vividly, especially considering how much he let you see him without those sunglasses on. They were bright blood red, like jewels or a volcano. You don’t know why though, and considering it’s Dave you decide the best way to find out is with your favourite form of communication: shitty post-it note messages.

“dave, i’m not sure if you noticed...  
but your eyes are REALLY red!  
that’s not normal, is it?  
also, i had fun at the sleepover.  
you should come over again, okay? red eyes and all.”

That looks perfect! Proud of yourself, you flip the page and take up reading about Protists. It’s boring as fuck, but you know you have to do it. Study now, be happy later. That’s the motto of a high school student. 

You study until you’re hungry, and eat, and then do goddamn nothing the rest of the day like a real high school student. And when you fall asleep, you smell Dave on your pillow. It makes you happy in ways you can’t really explain.  
===================================================================================

When you wake up fucking exhausted, you almost want to tell yourself to go back to sleep. It’d make you happy, yeah... But then you remember that John is still a person who exists, and how much you really want to just see him and shit. The fact that he’s enough to get you out of bed is a little much, but goddamn... 

That fucking personality, mmm mmm mmm. It helps that he really is easy on the eyes as well as the soul... Heart.. Shit.

Not allowing romance to get to you anymore, you shove earbuds into your ear and blast music all the fucking way to school. You keep them in secretly through first block as well, barely listening to the teacher drone on. 

You don’t even realise that you’re immediately opening your textbook to the notes you’re sure John left you, but then you’re scanning blue words and immediately staring at your book. Your eyes, he wanted to know about them. What a fucking loser... You better humor him though, before he thinks you’re satan or some shit. 

“yeah yeah you really wanna know dude?  
i bet youre just pissing yourself with the desire to just fucking know why my eyes are red  
keeping yourself up at night staring at the ceiling  
‘what kind of satanic demon IS my best friend holy shit’  
lemme tell you what kind  
the kind with albinism thats all  
fucking sad boring story i know i know but sometimes you just need to get used to disappointment johnny boy  
the world isnt full of rainbows and sunshine  
well okay it is but its also full of shitty boring stuff  
like the time you maybe thought your cool best friend was a demon but really he just has to sit in the dark at home or his eyes get mad at him and hurt and shit  
also im pretty sure my eyesight is worse than yours fyi  
thats part of the package deal  
fry like anything in a comforting southern fair  
burn like anything a five year old cooks trying to make mommy happy with breakfast in bed on mothers day but really mommy is just even more fucking stressed when shes woken up by the lovely sound of the fire alarm screeching  
and eyes that see about as well as grandpa driving the car right through the window of the drug mart  
poor grandpa just wanted some gummy worms and look what happened  
thats exactly what albinism is like i swear on my goddamn life”

Haha, oops. You didn’t mean to write that much. You know it’s because you get nervous talking about your albinism, but goddamn... You’re glad he doesn’t have the sense or knowledge to ask about your gender, because an essay full of extended metaphors about the beauty of you doesn’t sound like a good use of your time in class.

Of course, you really don’t spend any of your time actually working. As you’re sitting there, listening to the teacher drone on about single celled organisms, you decide it’s time to ask John how he feels about queer people, or something. You have to at least let your toe dip into the water, right? He’s your best friend, you deserve to know what he thinks about dudes kissing dudes, and shit like that. And maybe you want to know if he’s interested in kissing certain people, for reference, but that doesn’t mean anything! You’re his best friend, and you have every right to want to know this shit to help hook him up with a potential ~~you~~ someone. Like a good wingman.

Because you’ve so firmly decided what you’re going to do, when the bell rings you whip right the fuck out of the classroom. You swear you felt a breeze, that’s how fast you were going. You ran right downstairs, and sat your ass down on a bench right where you and John always meet. 

And then the nerves kick in. Your palms sweat, and your hands shake just slightly. You feel like you can’t swallow right, goddamn it. Not only that, but it was so fucking obvious that when John showed up, he immediately hugged you tight. “Do you have a presentation next block Dave? You look like you’re gonna pass out! I can help you go over it if you want...”

“Haha, no, it’s nothing,” shit, your voice is shaking too. Like some sorta teenage girl telling her first crush how okay it is he got his first girlfriend or something, you’re left feeling scared and alone. John just squeezes you tighter, and you can practically hear the eyeroll in his words. 

“It’s NOT nothing, you loser,” he’s guiding you outside, you realise, and holy SHIT. You were supposed to just ask him what he thought about people who weren’t straight, not get yourself bent out of shape over it. 

You swallow, trying to quell your nerves, and he just rubs your back until you can squeak out the most pathetic question ever, “do you think gay is okay?” Fuck. FUCK. **FUCK.** You can’t believe that, out of all the ways to ask him, you had to go sounding like some shitty goddamn straight ally catchphrase slogan.  
You go completely tense, and John looks goddamn shocked. Of course he does, you just asked him the stupidest fucking thing in the universe. You’re going to die, you’re pretty sure that’d be an appropriate thing to happen right now.

Poor John as well, who just stands there, holding onto you and staring at the wall. Did you break him? That’s almost sad, you’d feel worse about it if you weren’t the one FREAKING OUT already. Hell, when he opens his mouth you feel lightheaded, only for him to close it again! What an asshole.

You stand there in stunned silence, you stewing in panic and John... Fuck if you know, for what feels like years, and then his mouth finally opens. And this time, a confused “why are you asking?” Comes out, and you feel the hatred of hell for all of one second before you relax again. It’s okay, you can do this.

“Just gotta... Make sure my best friend is an ally or something. Don’t wanna be around someone who hates like... Gay shit and stuff. That’s.. Not cool. Really uncool. Like... Spongebob’s recent episodes level of uncool. About as uncool as the equator. As uncool as the sun. We finally get to the sun, go ahead and measure the temperature. Scientists ask, ‘what is the temperature space fella?’ And the guy just goes, ‘about as uncool as John Egbert hating gay shit and stuff,’ and everybody understands...” You realise John’s just staring at you with a little smile on his face, and you trail off, a nervous smile gracing your own lips. 

But then, he opens his mouth and says the most relieving goddamn thing in the entire universe, “Dave, I’m not even straight. Why would I hate gay shit?”

You could KISS him right now, right on the lips. You just barely manage to resist the urge, and John hugs you properly again, laughing into your ear, “come on, lets go get some food to eat.”

His hand reaches for yours automatically, and when you entwine your fingers, you turn to face him as much as you can, “and you know I’m not straight either?”

“I figured, since you looked like you were going to cry for a little while there,” he replies, arm swinging between the two of you. A weight feels like it’s been lifted off your shoulder, and your head just barely rests on his as the two of you walk off campus together.

You reply the only way you think you can to something like that then, smiling to yourself. “Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUTOUT TO NON-BINARY PEOPLE: ME TOO

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a multi-chapter fic! So I hope you find yourself interested and stick around, because it's gonna be a wild ride.


End file.
